


tastes like hell (but i'm in pain)

by hatchet



Category: Saw (Movies)
Genre: F/F, Friends With Benefits, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Pre-Relationship, except it's more like Porn With Angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-23
Updated: 2021-02-23
Packaged: 2021-03-14 01:08:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,056
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29660139
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hatchet/pseuds/hatchet
Summary: amanda gets a text from eleanor, which leads to her going to eleanor's apartment for the night. what they do there may feel good, but that sure doesn't mean amanda feels good about it.
Relationships: Eleanor Bonneville/Amanda Young
Comments: 2
Kudos: 8





	tastes like hell (but i'm in pain)

**Author's Note:**

> partially inspired by a scene in viewer discretion by williamshooketh, partially inspired by a conversation about an entirely unrelated wip a friend is working on, and the rest is just me not being able to get this idea out of my head.
> 
> title from round we go by marika hackman.

**_Eleanor Bonneville [10:17PM]:_ ** _ thinking about you _

**_[10:24PM] Snapchat_ **

_ from Eleanor Bonneville _

Amanda glanced at the clock on the top of the screen just as the numbers flashed over to 11:00. Ignoring the message, she swiped open the Snapchat notification (why she even had  _ Snapchat _ , she had no fucking idea—it had been a joint effort from Adam and Eleanor to convince her to download it, and even still she didn’t quite know when she’d actually agreed to it, but here it was on her phone nonetheless). More than likely, it was just some particularly gruesome injury from one of Eleanor’s autopsies; she liked to share all the grisliest—oh.

_ Oh. _

Apparently, Eleanor wasn’t working tonight at all, and Amanda suddenly understood the whole “thinking about you” thing that was much sappier than either of them would ever actually send, being that their relationship outside of the confines of apprenticeship was strictly sexual.

The video featured Eleanor—a very scantily-clad Eleanor, Amanda was quick to notice, in nothing but a black silk robe that she hadn’t even bothered to tie, and a pair of lacy underwear that surely had no actual functionality—on her knees in front of her mirror, looking directly into the camera (and, Amanda felt, directly at her) as she slid her hand down her stomach before allowing it to slip beneath her waistband. Then the camera flipped, and once again it felt like Eleanor was looking right into her soul as she took her very-obviously-wet fingers into her mouth and sucked them clean.

The video then began to replay, and Amanda nearly dropped her phone in her haste to swipe away from it; her heart was pounding so loudly she could practically hear the blood rushing inside her ears, and that wasn’t the only place blood was rushing. She was pretty sure her own (much more utilitarian) underwear was now, very suddenly and very inconveniently, in a similar state to Eleanor’s.

She looked down at her phone again, trying to get her breathing under control and simultaneously realizing she’d accidentally typed a string of nonsense into the message box in her efforts to avoid letting the video replay. She deleted the text quickly but apparently it wasn’t fast enough; to her horror, the tiny cartoon version of Eleanor popped up at the bottom of the screen and indicated that she was typing, before just as abruptly disappearing. Amanda wondered if that meant that  _ she _ should say something, but how was she even supposed to respond to… that?

There was hardly a moment for her to dwell on a possible response, though; her phone began to vibrate in her hand, the screen lighting up with Eleanor’s name flashing across it like some kind of warning signal. Against her better judgement, Amanda tapped the ‘accept’ button.

“Hel—”  _ Fuck _ , she sounded ridiculous, all out of breath and hoarse and not at all keeping her cool. She cleared her throat as surreptitiously as she could and tried again: “Hello?”

Eleanor, on the other hand, sounded cool as a cucumber, her voice practically a purr as she asked, “What are you doing?”

“Working,” Amanda replied, but the goddamn tremor in her voice surely gave away the fact that she was decidedly not working. Not anymore.

There was a pause, during which Amanda was pretty sure she could hear Eleanor’s breath hitch on the other end, before she said, “Are you alone?”

Now, Eleanor knew damn well that she was alone. She was at the warehouse almost as often as the rest of them; she knew their schedules: John was in bed by 9 o’clock on the dot, Lawrence was almost as much of an old man as John was and usually wanted to be home by 10 unless they were working on something urgent, which meant Adam was gone too, and Logan’s schedule fluctuated with his work at the morgue, but if Eleanor wasn’t there, he almost definitely was. So there was only one reason why Eleanor could possibly be asking why she was—

“Amanda?”

“Yeah, I’m here.” She swallowed, and then, deciding that yeah, they were apparently doing this, added, “And alone.”

There was another pause. “Is this… okay?” Eleanor still sounded breathy, but it was clear she wanted an honest answer; it wasn’t the first time she’d asked something like this, and in all honesty, Amanda didn’t really know what to do with it.

Eleanor’s video flashed through her mind again, and Amanda could feel another rush of heat pool low in her belly. She reached out, gripping the edge of her workbench to steady herself as she replied, “...yes. Yeah.”

“You’re sure?”

“ _ Yes,” _ Amanda replied. As much as she appreciated Eleanor always… checking in on her like this (not that she would ever admit it), she also had no idea how the fuck to respond to it. There had been  _ months  _ of tension before they finally slept together for the first time; it wasn’t like she hadn’t had enough time to make up her damn mind.

“Thank god,” Eleanor breathed into the phone, and then sighed, and Amanda’s grip on the workbench tightened at the sound. “I’m so wet for you, Amanda…”

As uncertain as she was about the procedure for this whole kind of thing, Amanda couldn’t help the self-satisfied smirk that began to tug at the corners of her mouth, even as she clenched her thighs together in an attempt to find some kind of relief. “I fuckin’ noticed.” Eleanor made a noise that was somewhere between a whimper and a moan, and finally Amanda allowed herself to collapse onto the closest stool, nearly groaning herself.

“Tell me what you’ve been working on.”

Amanda’s fingers, which had begun to graze her waistband, stopped. “What?”

“Your trap,” Eleanor insisted, “tell me what it’s going to  _ do _ .”

Fuck, right. Eleanor was into that kind of shit. This wouldn’t exactly be the first time they’d fucked (or, well—whatever this was) after Amanda talked her through a trap.

She began to explain the plans she had for it, finally allowing her fingers to slip into her underwear after a particularly filthy groan from Eleanor and finding that she was just as wet as the other woman had been earlier. “—so they’re both gonna have to hold onto the live wires to keep the circuit closed—” Amanda couldn’t help but cut off with her own moan as her fingers brushed her clit, even as she tried to stifle it (more for the sake of not waking John than anything else).

Amanda could practically hear the smirk in Eleanor’s voice as she asked, “Are you  _ touching yourself _ , Amanda Young?”

“That’s what we’re doin’, isn’t it?” she snapped, but any real malice was counteracted by just how breathy she sounded. If nothing else, Eleanor sure knew how to get her all hot and bothered.

“It’s certainly what I’m doing,” Eleanor replied, her words punctuated with little hitches in her breath that Amanda could have sworn shot straight between her legs. “Tell me what you’re doing.”

Wasn’t that exactly what she’d just done? Amanda hesitated, trying to figure out what the fuck she was even supposed to say, but then Eleanor (with her uncannily, frustratingly good ability to read her, which Amanda would never understand) said, “It’s okay. Keep going. With the trap.”

That she could do. Amanda’s eyes fluttered closed as she dragged her fingers through her wetness, slowly circling her clit as she spoke.

The noises from Eleanor’s end began to grow more desperate, breathier and more high-pitched, and Amanda’s fingers followed suit, increasing her rhythm with each sound Eleanor made. She shifted forward on the stool, leaning back against the wall as she allowed a finger to slip inside herself, gritting her teeth in frustration at the way her pants prevented her from finding a better angle. “The first to let go,” she managed, “it breaks the circuit and activates the—the magnet behind—and they’re impaled…”

“Amanda,” Eleanor choked out on the other end, “I’m so fucking close…”

Amanda groaned, both at Eleanor’s words and at the fact that she herself was so worked up but still not anywhere near close. She clenched her hand between her thighs, even as she said, “S’that right? You wanna be a good girl and come for me, Eleanor?”

“Yes,” Eleanor half-sobbed, “please, I’m… oh,  _ fuck,  _ Amanda!” As her words devolved into barely-coherent moans on the other end, Amanda’s thighs clenched together even harder, her stomach feeling like it was going to completely bottom out as she continued to murmur praises into the phone.

A few moments later, once her breathing had finally settled somewhat, Eleanor said, “Are you… I want to make you… can you come over?”

By this point, Amanda had removed her hand, resigning herself to just being frustrated and worked up until the next time she and Eleanor had a few minutes alone in the warehouse. But the other woman’s question caught her off guard.  _ Could _ she just go over? It was a whole lot of effort for… whatever this was between them (sex, she told herself, just sex. A way to relieve tension); it was at least an hour’s drive into the city, and that wasn’t even taking into account the fact that she’d be leaving John alone—

“Yeah.”

Wait, fuck, had she said that?

Even as she wondered, Amanda found herself wiping her hand on her pants before shoving it into her pocket to check for her keys. “Gimme a few minutes to check on John and lock up. I’ll let you know when I’m close.”

It was clear Eleanor was shocked at this answer too; there was a beat before she replied, “...I’ll see you soon, then?”

“Yep,” Amanda said, and then hung up before either of them could say anything else that might make her change her mind.

Not an hour and a half later, she was standing outside the door to Eleanor’s apartment, trying to decide whether or not to actually knock. On the one hand, she’d driven all the fucking way here and it would be stupid to turn back now, but on the other hand…

She’d been to Eleanor’s apartment once before, and hadn’t even stayed long enough for them to sleep together. She’d only gone to pick up a report that the other woman  _ insisted  _ couldn’t wait and couldn’t be emailed, which had clearly been just an excuse to invite Amanda over, despite the fact that neither of them would admit it. But, she’d felt so out of place in Eleanor’s stupidly nice apartment that she’d bolted before she could even take a sip of the drink the redhead had offered her, the report long-forgotten.

And yet, here the fuck she was, standing outside her door for a goddamn  _ booty call _ , of all things. However, as she hovered there, the sound of footsteps began to echo from the direction of the elevators, and the last thing Amanda wanted was for anyone  _ else _ to see her here. So she raised her fist and knocked, sharply.

It felt like Eleanor opened the door near-instantaneously and was tugging her in by the hand, and good fucking god, she was still in that robe and very obviously nothing else.

At the very least, Eleanor was smart enough to know that just shoving her up against the door and kissing her would not go over well, as much as the expression she was giving her betrayed how much that was exactly what she wanted to do. Instead, she hooked her fingers into Amanda’s belt loops, unable to stop herself from tugging her a little closer as she uttered a breathy, “Hi.”

Fortunately, there was nothing stopping  _ Amanda _ from shoving  _ Eleanor _ up against the door and kissing her, and the glimpse of the redhead’s skin through the gap in her untied robe had once again stoked the fire in Amanda’s belly, so she did just that. Immediately, Eleanor’s hands found their way beneath Amanda’s hoodie, and she moaned into the kiss as her fingers splayed against Amanda’s ab muscles. They didn’t stay there long, though, instead sliding upwards to palm at her breasts through her sports bra.

Amanda, unable to resist teasing her a little, slipped a hand between Eleanor’s legs as the other came to rest at her waist, and they both groaned as Amanda found that Eleanor was still as wet as she had been earlier. “Already up for round two, huh?”

“You first,” Eleanor replied, her thumbs finding Amanda’s nipples through the fabric of her bra as she kissed a trail along her jaw and down her throat. She removed her hands as quickly as she’d started, and Amanda almost protested, until Eleanor tugged at the hem of her sweatshirt. “Take this off?”

Amanda did as she was asked, all but tearing the sweatshirt over her head and letting it fall to the floor, and it had barely hit the ground before Eleanor’s lips were pressed to the center of her chest, just above her bra. Even as her hands cupped Amanda’s breasts through the spandex, Eleanor murmured against her skin, “You should take this off too.”

Again, Amanda complied, growling her frustration as she managed to get her arms temporarily caught ( _ fucking _ sports bras), but Eleanor was quick to assist; she eased it the rest of the way off and then caught Amanda’s mouth in a searing kiss. Her hands once again slid across the expanse of Amanda’s stomach, traveling upwards until her fingertips grazed the undersides of her breasts.

Amanda’s back arched, and she caught Eleanor’s wrists, dragging her hands up to cover her breasts; she’d already waited too goddamn long and wasn’t in the mood to be teased. Eleanor was all too happy to oblige, allowing her thumbs to brush across Amanda’s already-taut nipples a few times before she began to roll them between her fingers. At this, Amanda’s hips jerked forward, and she had to clutch at the back of Eleanor’s silky robe to keep her knees from buckling as she slipped a bare leg in between Amanda’s. She ground herself against Eleanor’s thigh, groaning at the sensation and at the fact that it wasn’t  _ enough _ , but she wasn’t about to beg… until Eleanor reached around to cup her ass, giving her much better leverage, and god, she needed—

“Eleanor, fuck me,” Amanda choked out as the redhead nipped at her pulse point. She could feel her smirk against her skin, and dug her nails into her back in response; the robe didn’t provide much of a barrier.

Eleanor let out a sound that was somewhere between a whimper and a moan, lifting her head to look at Amanda as she breathed, “Couch.”

The two stumbled over in a crash of lips and teeth and limbs, Eleanor trying to unbutton Amanda’s pants as they moved, which was ultimately a fruitless effort. As the backs of Amanda’s legs hit the armrest of the couch, she let go of Eleanor just long enough to unfasten her pants and shove them down her hips… where they caught on her Docs. With a snarl of frustration, she leaned down, trying alternately to force her pants over the chunky boots and kick the boots off entirely, cursing impatiently as this just managed to get them even more caught.

All too gently, Eleanor maneuvered Amanda until she was sitting on the couch, brushing a kiss to the top of her head before kneeling in front of her. “Shh,” she soothed as she began to unknot her laces, “let me.” It was all Amanda could do to keep from fisting her hands in Eleanor’s pretty copper hair and dragging her mouth to where she wanted it, but instead she dug her fingers into the plush white fabric of the couch and tried not to think too hard about how much she might be fucking it up.

After what seemed like forever (but was probably only a few seconds), Eleanor tugged her pants the rest of the way off, casting them aside in favor of positioning herself between Amanda’s legs, her fingertips grazing the tops of her thighs. Her gaze flickered, just briefly, to the skin there, with its crisscross of ropy scars and newer, fresher wounds, and Amanda felt her stomach lurch. It wasn’t like Eleanor hadn’t seen it before, but never in this much light, never against the fresh, white backdrop of her fancy apartment, never—

“Amanda.” Eleanor’s voice was soft, but firm, and Amanda forced herself to look at her. As she pressed a kiss to Amanda’s stomach, she said, “It’s okay,” and to her surprise, Amanda found herself believing it, at least for the time being. There were much more pressing matters at hand, if nothing else.

Eleanor kissed her way lower, grazing her teeth across Amanda’s hip bone, planting a trail of kisses down the inside of one thigh and back up the other, her mouth everywhere but where Amanda wanted it. She brushed the lightest of kisses against Amanda’s center, her tongue flicking out to tease her through her underwear that was already soaked through with arousal, and finally Amanda’s hands came to fist themselves in her hair as she groaned Eleanor’s name, her hips jerking upwards in her desperation for the other woman to touch her.

“Stop teasin’ me,” Amanda said, and though she’d tried to make it sound like a command, it came out much more desperate than she would have ever intentionally allowed. Luckily, though, it was enough, and Eleanor finally,  _ finally _ hooked her fingers into the waistband of her underwear, tugging it down her legs before repositioning herself between them.

The scent of Amanda’s arousal was intoxicating, but the taste of it was even better; Eleanor let out a throaty groan to match Amanda’s as she dragged her tongue upwards through her folds, circling it around her clit a few times before Amanda’s grip in her hair tightened and she finally relented, reaching up to grasp Amanda’s hips as she used the flat of her tongue against her in the way she knew would be quick to drive her over the edge.

Amanda’s breathing quickly grew even more ragged, and she thrust her hips forward to meet Eleanor as the other woman slipped a finger inside her, quickly adding another as she realized just how close Amanda already was. “Don’t stop,” she choked out, “don’t fuckin’ stop…” Eleanor hummed against her as she continued her rhythm, twisting her hand so that she could crook her fingers  _ just so _ , and Amanda’s back arched as she cried out, stars exploding behind her eyes as her orgasm washed over her.

Eleanor didn’t let up until Amanda’s thighs had stopped trembling, and even as she withdrew her fingers, she continued moving her tongue against Amanda’s center, slowing to open-mouthed kisses to ease her back down as Amanda collapsed against the back of the couch, spent. She pressed one last kiss against her before sitting back on her heels, and though she’d just come, Amanda couldn’t help the jolt of arousal that shot through her as Eleanor took her own fingers into her mouth to lick them clean, looking up at Amanda through her lashes as she did so. It was a picture-perfect repetition of her earlier video, and it was  _ so much fucking hotter _ in person.

As Eleanor moved to straddle her lap, Amanda took the opportunity to shove the robe from her shoulders; it wasn’t like it had been doing anything to cover her anyway. Eleanor inhaled sharply, and Amanda smirked up at her. “Don’t think you’ll be distractin’ me that easily.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Eleanor replied, the last word cutting off in a gasp as Amanda reached up to brush her thumbs over her nipples. “Can we—bedroom?”

Amanda nodded, and Eleanor leaned down to kiss her, hard, before clambering off of her lap and reaching for her hand. To her credit, Amanda only hesitated for a moment before grasping Eleanor’s, allowing her to intertwine their fingers and trying to ignore the fact that this simple touch felt so much more intimate than having had Eleanor’s face buried between her thighs moments ago.

As they entered the bedroom, Eleanor let go to move to the side of the bed and turn on the lamp that was on her nightstand, and Amanda took in the room. Like the living room, it was predominantly white and seemed devoid of any kind of personal touch… not that she was one to judge, really, but even she had a shelf with a few trinkets and a postcard on her wall back at the warehouse. The thought was pushed from her mind, however, as her gaze landed on the bright pink item lying at the foot of the bed. She raised an eyebrow, as if to silently ask,  _ this again?  _ and when Eleanor saw where she was looking, she at least had the good graces to blush.

When Eleanor first brought the strap-on to the warehouse, Amanda had initially balked, but her uncertainties had quickly disappeared at the sight of Eleanor kneeling on the ground in front of her, her lips around the toy as she looked up at her; it was almost enough for Amanda to understand why the men from her past had acted the way they did.  _ Almost _ . And though she couldn’t  _ really  _ feel it, the sounds Eleanor had made had as she’d thrust into her nearly been enough to send Amanda over the edge herself.

But, she wasn’t going to miss the opportunity to tease her a little first.

“You must be real worked up tonight, hm?” Amanda purred as she stalked, maddeningly slowly, towards the other woman. “First that little video of yours, and now…” She heard Eleanor’s breath hitch and grinned, catching her wrists as she closed in and holding them behind her back. She pressed her lips to her shoulder before dragging her tongue along her collarbone, punctuating it all by biting at her neck hard enough that it would surely leave a mark. When Eleanor gasped, she relented, but only for a moment before she began to suck at the same spot, only stopping when a suitably large bruise had begun to blossom there.

She allowed her lips to travel lower, nipping at Eleanor’s skin as she did, flicking her tongue across a nipple as she passed it before repeating her actions from a moment ago to leave another mark on the underside of her breast. Eleanor gave a half-sob as Amanda sucked at her skin, and she paused; she pulled back just enough to look up at her, and Eleanor nodded, even as her teeth dug into her bottom lip, eyes squeezed tightly shut. Still, Amanda waited, only returning to her ministrations once Eleanor uttered a choked, “Please, Amanda…”

She let go of her wrists and Eleanor’s arms were immediately around her, clutching at her back as Amanda stroked her sides lightly, which elicited a shiver. It wasn’t entirely clear which one of them moved, but they fell onto the bed in a tangle of limbs, and Amanda straddled Eleanor’s waist as she leaned down to suck at her neck again, one hand coming up to palm at her breast. She moved to press an open-mouthed kiss to the other breast, swirling her tongue around her nipple before sucking it into her mouth, Eleanor’s back arching into her touch. Tantalizingly slowly, she drew her fingers downward, stopping at her inner thigh as she continued her tongue’s attentions.

Eleanor tried to jerk her hips upward, desperate for any kind of friction, but Amanda simply smirked against her skin, her weight atop the other woman not allowing her any room to move. She drew her fingers back upwards, just shy of where Eleanor wanted them most, and then back down the inside of her other thigh, before finally brushing them, feather-light, over her swollen clit. Eleanor gasped, curling her fingers into fists around the comforter to keep herself from grabbing Amanda’s wrist and forcing her to touch her properly.

“You like that?” Amanda asked, and did it again, and Eleanor made a noise that was halfway between a moan and a sob.

“Yes, god, Amanda, please touch me,” she gasped, and finally Amanda gave in, her fingers sliding down through Eleanor’s slick folds and then up again to her clit, circling it hard and fast as she leaned up to kiss her.

Within moments, Eleanor’s moans began to grow more urgent, but just as she felt like she was about to hit her peak, Amanda stopped, drawing back and rolling off of her all at once. Eleanor started to protest, blindly grasping for Amanda’s arm, but when she opened her eyes, she found that the other woman was stepping into the harness, sliding it up over her hips and tightening the straps, and any protests she may have had died on her lips.

Eleanor shifted so that she was lying more properly on the bed, her breath catching in her throat as Amanda looked up from her adjustments to shoot her a grin that wasn’t unlike a predator closing in on its prey. She climbed back on top of her, stopping to nip at the insides of her thighs and lap at her center just long enough to have her gasping beneath her, before she continued her path upwards, ending it with a deep, searing kiss.

Amanda moved her hips just enough that the toy slipped back and forth between Eleanor’s thighs, coating it in her arousal as the redhead whimpered into the kiss. She jerked her hips forward, and Amanda bit her bottom lip hard in response, drawing back just enough to say, “You gonna ask me nicely?”

“Please,” Eleanor replied, her hips jerking forward again, “I want you to fuck me, Amanda…”

“There’s a good girl.” Amanda reached between them, positioning the toy at Eleanor’s entrance before pushing into her, groaning in harmony with the other woman’s shuddering gasp as the noise shot straight to her own core. She waited a moment, Eleanor’s nails digging crescent moon markings into her back as she adjusted, and at the other woman’s nod, Amanda began to rock against her.

As Eleanor’s moans once again grew more desperate, Amanda sped up her rhythm, reaching between their bodies to rub Eleanor’s clit in time with her thrusts, and then she was begging, her pleas to  _ keep going, oh god, don’t stop _ coming out as near-sobs, one leg wrapped around Amanda’s waist in a vice-like grip. Finally, one particularly deep thrust sent Eleanor careening over the edge, her face buried in Amanda’s shoulder as she cried her name over and over again like some kind of prayer.

Once she’d ridden out the final waves of it, Eleanor collapsed backwards onto the mattress, chest heaving as she tried to catch her breath, and Amanda had to sit back to stop herself from reaching out to smooth away the copper hair from Eleanor’s sweat-soaked forehead. She loosened the harness and wriggled out of it, kicking it off somewhere to be found later, and then hovered there, watching Eleanor bask in the afterglow and unsure of what to do with herself. This was always the hardest part; once the endorphins and the adrenaline and whatever else had passed, Amanda didn’t know what she was supposed to do. Part of her wanted to collapse onto the bed beside Eleanor to catch her own breath, but a bigger part of her screamed that it couldn’t be like that, this was just a way to relieve tension and stress and couldn’t become anything more, because  _ more _ would be a distraction and the guilt of just considering that was almost bone-crushing.

But then Eleanor opened her eyes, and caught sight of Amanda sitting there, and Amanda didn’t miss the flicker of hurt that flashed across her face before she schooled her expression into something more neutral. She pushed herself into a seated position, reaching for Amanda’s hand and toying with her fingers as she said, “You have to get back.” It wasn’t a question so much as it was a resigned statement, and Amanda didn’t understand why it hurt so fucking much that Eleanor didn’t even look at her as she said it.

“John—”

“—would be okay for one night.” Eleanor chanced a look at her, and added, “And Logan’s driving up after his shift…”

But it was already bad enough that she’d come to Eleanor’s apartment. If she stayed, spent the night in her bed, woke up beside her tomorrow morning…

As if she could read her mind (and really, Amanda sometimes wondered if she could), Eleanor said, “It doesn’t have to mean anything if we don’t want it to.”

The unspoken words between them were that of course it would mean something, whether they were willing to admit it or not. Every kiss, every brush of their hands when they were working on a trap together, every glance that they thought the other wouldn’t notice, it all fucking  _ meant something _ , and Amanda wouldn’t let that happen. She couldn’t. John had given her  _ purpose _ , and she wasn’t going to let that slip through her fingers just because she’d found some pretty girl who wanted to fuck her.

Even as she thought this, though, even as the anger and guilt threatened to overwhelm her, Amanda found herself yawning, and then Eleanor was easing her onto the mattress, peeling back the covers.

“If nothing else,” Eleanor said, “you shouldn’t be driving, not when you’re this tired.”

And she hadn’t realized it until now, but she  _ was _ tired. Fucking exhausted, even; she couldn’t remember the last time she’d had more than a few hours of sleep, max, and the fact that Eleanor’s bed was the most comfortable bed she’d ever felt certainly wasn’t helping matters.

“Okay,” Amanda said, her eyes already fluttering closed. She didn’t want to argue about it anymore, didn’t want to see the way Eleanor’s face fell a little every time she came up with another reason to leave. She’d been out all night before, tailing potential subjects or scouting locations; this didn’t have to be anything different. And if she felt guilty tomorrow, she could just work through the night and hopefully make up for it, right? And maybe if she was well-rested, slept in a soft, warm bed rather than her glorified cot in the cold warehouse with its creaks and groans and constant aura of suffering (not that she was complaining; she would never complain about everything John had given her), maybe that would give her the real recharge she needed and ease some of the bone-deep exhaustion she constantly carried with her.

As she tried to reason with herself, she half-registered Eleanor leaving the room for a few minutes, but Amanda didn’t bother to look until she heard her click the lamp off as she crawled into bed. Instantly, Amanda stiffened, her eyes snapping open, only to find that Eleanor had left the bathroom light on, the door cracked open just enough to keep the bedroom from being completely dark.

“I wouldn’t forget,” Eleanor whispered, and it sent Amanda’s heart clenching painfully all over again, because somewhere deep down, she’d known that. Even the things that no one else noticed, that no one else remembered, Eleanor didn’t forget, and Amanda didn’t understand why that made her heart feel like it was being squeezed in a vise. She could almost feel the other woman waiting for a response, but she didn’t know what she could say, so she said nothing, until:

“‘Night, Eleanor.”

There was a sigh and a shift; Eleanor was lying close enough that Amanda could feel her body heat, but she didn’t close the distance. (Amanda wasn’t sure whether she was grateful or disappointed.) Instead, she replied softly, “Sleep well, Amanda.”

*

Amanda did sleep well. Better than she had in recent (and distant, if she was being honest) memory. She awoke in what felt like a dreamy haze, a warm weight at her side and something soft tickling her cheek; she didn’t want to move in case it broke her fully from the dream. But then the memories of the night before came flooding back, and she remembered where she was, and she was suddenly wide awake. She tensed, but tried not to move too quickly, realizing exactly what—or rather,  _ who _ —the warmth at her side was. It wasn’t that she particularly cared about waking her, she was sure Eleanor wouldn’t mind, but Amanda was not ready to have that conversation, not now and not ever.

Carefully, she eased herself out from beneath the covers, her eyes squeezed tightly shut until she was standing and facing away from the bed. She couldn’t look at Eleanor, because that would make all of this too real, too important, and it wasn’t. It was just sex. So she kept her eyes closed until she was safely out of bed, and only then did she open them. Immediately, her gaze landed on her phone on the nightstand beside her, which Eleanor had to have brought in since she didn’t even know where she’d left it last night, her impatience and arousal clouding her judgement and making her lose sight of what was actually important: her place as John’s legacy. With her heart in her throat, she picked up the phone to check for any messages, feeling her pulse quicken at the sight of one from Logan, but it was just a confirmation that he’d arrived and John was okay, which he always sent if she wasn’t at the warehouse when he showed up after a shift.

Christ, what had she been thinking, driving all the way out here like this and leaving John alone? Sure, it had only been a handful of hours, but a hell of a lot could happen in that amount of time. She’d gotten lucky this time, but there was no promise things would go the same way if she did this again, which meant that she couldn’t.

Impatient now to get back to the warehouse and some semblance of normalcy, she made her way out into the living room, forcing herself not to look back at the bed where she knew Eleanor would be sleeping, not wanting to see how peaceful she looked, or the way the morning sunlight caught in her hair, or—

Amanda shook her head to chase the thoughts away, only to have her stomach lurch as she discovered that Eleanor had also laid out her clothes for her on the back of the couch. No one did things like that for her; she didn’t need it and she certainly didn’t deserve it, and Amanda didn’t fucking like the way it made guilt twist her stomach into knots when Eleanor did shit like this. She picked up her underwear and yanked it on a little more forcefully than was probably necessary, grimacing at the way it was stiff with last night’s dried arousal, but mild discomfort was the least she deserved after all of this. She pulled on the rest of her clothes hastily, shoving a hand into her pocket to check for her keys, which, lucky for her, were still there. She crouched on the floor to put on her boots, not willing to sit on the couch, unable to spend a second longer than was absolutely necessary in this place she so clearly didn’t belong. She shoved the laces inside her shoes, deciding she could tie them once she got to her truck, and made her way to the door as quietly as the boots would allow.

With her hand on the knob, Amanda hesitated—and had she looked back, she would have seen Eleanor who had been awake the whole time, watching from the bed and not bothering to hide the hurt in her expression because she knew there would be no one to see it, not if Amanda didn’t turn around, and Eleanor knew she wouldn’t. Amanda didn’t look back,  _ couldn’t _ look back, not when she knew it would make her want to stay, and she couldn’t do that, not now and not ever. Instead she slipped out of Eleanor’s apartment like she had never been there to begin with, closing the door silently behind herself.

**Author's Note:**

> ask me about eleanor bonneville's apartment 🥴


End file.
